Sticky
One
Steam rolled in hot waves out of the shower and around Hartley’s bathroom as she worked to get the grime off of her. Her skin was an angry red color from all the scrubbing she’d done, but she could still feel the touch of his hands on her body.
The memory of those rough, callused fingers marching along her abdomen and legs, pushing apart Hartley's knees to expose her already naked form further made the bile rise up inside her throat. She could still remember the tickle of his breath against her ears as if he were doing it right then, the weight of his body pressing her down to the backseat of his car.
The thought of that sharp pain between her legs almost brought Hartley to her knees. The ghost of thick, sticky blood could be felt coursing out of that unsealing wound and down to the girl’s ankles. Hartley shook while she tried to pull herself together again, picking up the wash cloth she must’ve dropped and continuing the rhythmic action of furiously rubbing the stiff fabric against her flesh, desperation bringing salty tears to her eyes.
She prayed that she could get through this day. Just one more day, and maybe she would find a way to forget what had happened. But still the rushing of the water spurting from the showerhead sounded just like him whispering to her, and she knew she’d never forget.
The memory of those rough, callused fingers marching along her abdomen and legs, pushing apart Hartley's knees to expose her already naked form further made the bile rise up inside her throat. She could still remember the tickle of his breath against her ears as if he were doing it right then, the weight of his body pressing her down to the backseat of his car.
The thought of that sharp pain between her legs almost brought Hartley to her knees. The ghost of thick, sticky blood could be felt coursing out of that unsealing wound and down to the girl’s ankles. Hartley shook while she tried to pull herself together again, picking up the wash cloth she must’ve dropped and continuing the rhythmic action of furiously rubbing the stiff fabric against her flesh, desperation bringing salty tears to her eyes.
She prayed that she could get through this day. Just one more day, and maybe she would find a way to forget what had happened. But still the rushing of the water spurting from the showerhead sounded just like him whispering to her, and she knew she’d never forget.